“That, my dear boy, is exactly what I fear. At the rate you are going, the right lady might prove to be a Hottentot princess from the Fiji Islands.”
“And who is to say that there are no lovely ladies among the Hottentots? Truly, Uncle, where is your imagination?”
Lord Ronald’s face turned an unlovely shade of red, as he drew in a deep breath, and seemed to swell up like a large frog.
“Easy there, Uncle, easy!” Percival soothed. “I am but joking. Besides, I do not think we have diplomatic relations with the Fiji Islanders at this time.”
“That was cruel, Nephew, cruel! Only your father could wind me up so quickly and thoroughly.”
If Percival’s chuckle was a little forced, only those who knew him best could have detected it. “You are too quick to rise to the bait, Uncle Ronald. But I do recall that Father did not think a visit from you complete unless he raised your dander.”
Lord Ronald let out his breath, drew in another, and began to breathe more naturally. “Have a care that you are not the last living scion of Northbury. Dearly though I loved your father, his teasing was one of his least attractive traits. You need not take up his ways in memory, Nephew.”
“I wish he was here,” Percival said soberly. “I do miss him so much. He would have gotten a good laugh out of my wedding a Hottentot princess, and would have made much of it, saying that as a prince consort, I would then outrank him.”
“So he likely would have,” Lord Ronald conceded. “And the two of you would have gone on about it for hours. He was, indeed, a great card.”
“That he was,” Percival agreed, “Do you remember when—”
The two of them reminisced for several minutes before Lord Ronald said, “Tell me about the orphanage, Nephew.”
Percival proceeded to do that at great length. Then nothing would do but that his uncle must see the model of it.
Lord Ronald gazed at the proposed building. “Is it not rather grand for a pack of uncivilized, ignorant street brats who will likely steal the gold leaf and scrawl their marks on the statues?”
“I don’t think so, Uncle Ronald. But you might have a point for that is exactly what Tiffany said about it.”
“Tiffany?”
“My cook. I hired her one night after she tried to rob me.”
“She what?” Lord Ronald’s eyes bulged, and he grew red in the face again. Then he calmed. “You are bamming me again.”
“No, no, Uncle. She is the most cunning little thing, and amazingly marvelous cook. I declare that in the fortnight and a half that she has been here, I have gained at least five pounds, and Smithers was forced to take some of my trousers to the tailor to be let out.”
“You are lucky that she has not poisoned you and taken off with the family silver. First it was that itinerant sailor, now a thief? What kind of household are you running, Nephew?”
“One that is very well-fed, Uncle. Just wait until dinner, Uncle, you will see.”
“If I survive dinner,” his uncle said with some asperity.
Chapter 25
The household was having a trying day, for Lord Northbury had prevailed upon his uncle, Lord Ronald, to stay the night and to enjoy the hospitality of the house for a day or two. The staff, who were expected to be at their very best, were all a little on edge.
Sophie was working in the kitchen to make up for one of the new helpers having slipped on the wet stone floor and broken an ankle. She was not in the least happy about it. “Why are we polishing the copper pot bottoms with lime?” she whined as she rubbed a citrus skin across the dull copper on the bottom of a pot. “It is only going to get black as soon as we use it.”
“Because,” Tiffany said patiently, “It helps make the kitchen look brighter and adds an air of cheerfulness. I read about it in a broadside just yesterday. When you are finished, we will rub the bottoms of the pots with soap to make it easier to get the black off after they are next used.”
“Who cares if it is cheerful?” Sophie muttered.
“I do,” Grace said gently. “And so do all of us who must be here day after day. Think of Tiffany, who only leaves this room to go to an even smaller room to study.”
“Tiffany goes to study,” Sophie put a derisive whine to the statement. “Tiffany must set the sponge. Tiffany… Tiffany . . . Tiffany . . . that’s practically all I hear all day long. Always an excuse for others to have to work harder. Are you proud of yourself, Tiffany?”
Mrs. Twitchel walked up behind Sophie. “That will be quite enough, Sophie. Tiffany, you are not required to allow that level of disrespect. If there is a repetition, you are to ring for me. Understand?”
“I understand, Mrs. Twitchel.”
